


Smokin' Aces

by tattooeddevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gore, Hell, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The prisoner said nothing, just smiled"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smokin' Aces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meus_venator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meus_venator/gifts).



_Long tendrils of smoke wrapped themselves around his mind, his missing soul, his cold heart. The ice and fire coursing through his veins made him feel like he was floating, flying, drifting. Soft tendrils of desperate, horrified sounds and nauseating, acrid smells hit his eyes, ears, nose and throat, tickling the inside of his skin like fire ants crawling through their own personal hell._

_Burnt yellow, scorched black, frozen red; Hell._

_Ice, lava, welts, cuts; Skin._

_“Hello, Dean.”_

_His blood boiled freezing cold, forcing its way out of his nails, his pores, his breath, ghosting over the prisoner’s face._

_“Welcome to my house.”_

_A stab, a cut, bone, muscles._

_The prisoner said nothing, just smiled._

_Teeth cracked, lips were ripped off, tongue was cut. All that’s left was blood, gums, and more blood. He smiled back._

_Black shifted to red, red shifted to blue, blue shifted to green, green shifted to brown. Brown steamed, burned, boiled, burnt. The prisoner screamed through a broken, pretty mouth, but still said nothing. Brown shifted to yellow, shifted to purple, shifted to nothing._

_“You do remember me, don’t you Dean?”_

_The prisoner’s eyes were ablaze, fiery tears painting bloody tracks down his cheeks, burning holes in them like acid. Invisible hands made of rotten smells reached out and wrapped them around the prisoner’s throat. He laughed, a cold, hard sound, torture to even his own ears. The prisoner smiled again, a black hole dripping with blood and smoke, until his jaw cracked and dissolved to ashes._

_Ha laughed again, the invisible hands squeezed and tore, the prisoner went limp. He leaned in, licked the blood and flesh off the prisoner’s face._

_“You taste good, Dean.”_

Dean woke with a gasp, eyes wide in the oppressing darkness. His throat screamed with raw pain, as if he’d been screaming for hours, as if he smoked five packs of cigarettes and downed it with pure lava. His stomach rolled, he gagged. He clumsily pulled himself free from Sam’s arms and legs, bile already rising from deep inside of him. He made it to the toilet just in time to throw up his dinner, sour stomach acid burning his already sore throat. Flashes of his nightmare came back to him; the scent of his own flesh burning from fire and acid, the pain of his broken mouth.

And Sam.

He groaned, leaned his forehead on the cool glass of the toilet bowl and closed his eyes. Seconds, minutes ticked by, his heart never slowing down from its panicked, rapidfire thumping against his chest.

Smoke, fire, blood, pain.

He retched again, tears forcing their way out of his eyes with the force, until a cool hand wrapped across his forehead and a warm body settled behind him. The real Sam, not the one from his nightmares, with a gaping black hole where his soul should have been.

“It’s okay Dean, nothing to bring up.”

Sam waited until he sat back with a deep, exhausted sigh. He let Sam pull him to his feet, hand him a glass of water to rinse his mouth before steering him back to bed. Sam was still sleep-warm, wrapped around him, and exhaustion tugged him back into the darkness easily. Dean opened his eyes with effort, smiled at Sam.

“Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam smiled back, teeth cracked, blood dripping from his torn lips, jaw unhinged and broken.

“No problem, Dean.”

_The prisoner screamed, Sam laughed. Searing hot fumes licked along his skin, but he didn’t feel it. He had his prisoner in his arms, buried deep inside of him, and all was well._

_“I love you, Dean.”_

_The prisoner said nothing, just screamed._


End file.
